The Timeless in You Is Aware
by the writer formerlyknown as lm
Summary: Sirius is quite bored with the new student Brunhilda Bathswitch, and so, naturally, he tells his best friends that he intends to seduce her. They stalk her and soon find her to not be what she appears. [Time Travel] [RLNT]
1. Chapter 1

I am doing the cliché time travel HP fic! I am well and open to constructive criticism, but if it's about minute canon details, I don't really care, sorry, and I'll hope you see they don't really matter in the end.

 **The Timeless in You Is Aware**

 **Chapter One – A Way to Get Out of Detention**

Tonks's feet shook from behind the tapestry. She ran her wand along the brick wall, desperately looking for the secret entrance she _knew_ was there. "C'mon," she muttered.

"Professor Turpin," she heard McGonagall's stern voice drift down the hallway. "You haven't happened to have run into Miss Tonks, have you?"

"Minerva," Professor Turpin answered in her soft lilt, "don't you think if I ran into Tonks I'd have a few more bruises to show for it?"

To Tonks's chagrin, the two professors chuckled. _Ruddy bastards,_ she thought _. Now where is that goddamn passage?!_

Despite her cursing, no such door appeared. The footsteps were getting closer. All McGonagall had to do was fetch Filch and that goddamn cat, and she knew she would be in trouble for sure. Cats were stupid, all-knowing creatures, and they had stupid abilities to sniff out students. Tonks wondered, briefly, why McGonagall didn't do her rounds as a cat. Or teach all the stupid Prefects to do the same. That would just be bloody brilliant, wouldn't it? Cats everywhere, every Hogwarts hallway plagued with play mice and kitty litter and beady yellow eyes, desperate to give sneaky first years detention.

Well, Tonks wasn't a stupid first year at all – she was a _fourth year_ – and that meant that, as a true and noble troublemaker, she should be able to get herself out of such a sticky situation. But how to do so… That was the question. Morph into Head Girl Anita Johnson and pretend like she had just been doing patrols? Morph into studious Elliott Brown and pretend she was on her way to the library? All seemed good and well, but far too simple.

All because of a well-timed curse on a stupid git. Really, McGonagall should be _thanking_ her. Give her the honour of Merlin, for crying out loud! She had stopped that stupid Slytherin from making her friend Cynthia cry.

"Tonks, come out from where you're hiding. I've got eyes everywhere, so _any_ student who appears out of nowhere is going to get my wrath. You're not shifting out of this!"

Tonks grumbled to herself. Plan A was good and done. But a thought briefly drifted through her head, a dangerous thought. She had been practicing something all summer long, though she had never quite got the hang of it.

 _Apparation._

Could you apparate inside of Hogwarts? For Merlin's sake, she knew Cynthia had mentioned it a hundred times, but she honestly couldn't remember. Had she said yes, or no? It was one of the two, Tonks was sure of that.

And true, maybe the last time she had tried her arm had ended up on her forehead, but that was an easy enough fix, even if a bit painful.

No bother, she decided.

It was worth a shot at least. Those cursed footsteps were drawing closer.

"Miss Tonks," McGonagall finally said. "I can see your boots underneath the tapestry. Come out of there, this instant!"

Tonks closed her eyes and imagined the Hufflepuff common room. Everything began to swirl. She felt dizzy, like she was taking a portkey, and when everything finally stopped moving, she swayed a bit before promptly falling on her ass. She begin to inspect herself. Everything seemed to be in place.

"Who are you?!" she heard a voice behind her cry out. She turned and noticed the familiar portrait of Demeter Derwent, placed carefully over the Hufflepuff fireplace.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know me!" Tonks grinned. _It had worked!_ She had really done it. What a genuis she was!

"I'm sorry, dear, I'm afraid you gave me quite a fright," the portrait smiled. "Did you hit your head? Perhaps I should fetch someone."

Tonks was about to scream, _No, don't!_ but then a thought occurred to her. Derwent would most likely fetch Madam Pomfrey, who she could no doubt manipulate into giving her the perfect alibi (Pomfrey could be quite protective of her students sometimes). Tonks had skirted through most of the year – well, really, these past few weeks of school – with only having to do lines once, and she wanted to keep up her hot streak.

Even if she had decided to object, it was pointless because Derwent was good and gone in an instant. "Ahhh," she exhaled, plopping herself into one of the many Hufflepuff beanbag chairs (the bright orange, her favorite), crossing her legs and sprawling them across the table in front of her. She truly was a genuis sometimes.

"Hello," a distinct, male voice said as the common room door opened. Tonks made to stand up, but in her excitement just ended up falling onto her hands, the stupid beanbag coming along with her. She jumped up quickly.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she said. "What are you doing here?"

The good ol' headmaster stood before her in his bright blue robes, staring her down with a unique expression that seemed neither angry nor pleased.

"I should think the answer is obvious," he said after a rather uncomfortable silence. "I work here. Now as for you… Perhaps it would be better if we were to discuss this matter in my office."

He turned to the portrait. "Thank you, Demeter."

The pretty blonde woman was back in her place, hands running through her flowing locks. "Yes, you're quite welcome, Albus."

Tonks didn't quite know what to say. Had setting a pimple curse on someone truly been as awful as meriting a visit from the Headmaster? She followed him blindly into the hallway, her feet moving, seemingly, of their own accord. It wasn't until she realized that there was no sound around them that things seemed strange.

Shouldn't the other students be rushing to classes, or snogging in the alcoves, or tripping each other up in the corridors? No, there was nothing here – the school was so empty that their footsteps seemed to echo. She saw the Fat Friar lingering next to a bannister, but she stopped herself before waving at him stupidly. He was smiling at her, though hesitantly. It was not the warm, broad grin she was accustomed to, and it made her stomach turn to knots. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. What had she done? Did she… did she _kill_ herself?

"Smarties," Dumbledore said, and a door opened before them. Dumbledore stepped back. "After you," he said with a curt nod and Tonks returned it, not quite sure what it all meant.

She had never been inside the headmaster's office before, and she was blown away by everything around her. Magical instruments she had never seen before adorned bookcases stacked to the brim. A wall a potraits stood behind an ornate desk, each frame empty, as if Dumbledore – or maybe Demeter – had shooed them away.

"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding more amiable.

Tonks sat across from the desk and felt her leg start to twitch. Just to think she had done all this in order to get out of doing lines!

"I'm sorry, Professor," her mouth started without her brain, "I don't know what I did, exactly, but it's obvious that I mucked something up. If you want to give me detention that's fine, but I do ask that you please, please do not expel me, because even if I did send all the other students to an alternate dimension or something, I'm sure you can get them back!"

The Professor Dumbledore she knew would've laughed at this, but instead his eyes just continued to examine her from above the glasses perched on his nose. He was taking in many things about her, she noticed: her bright pink, spiky hair; her choice of muggle clothing (plaid skirt, fishnets under leg warmers) underneath her robe; the traditional Hufflepuff colors on said robe. But he never once looked directly into her eyes.

"The most obvious explanation," he said at last, "is that you are a student at this school."

"Of course, Professor!" Tonks started, "You _know_ me, I'm –"

"But there are other possibilities, as well," Dumbledore continued like she hadn't spoke at all. "Possibilities that I would be remiss to not look into."

He waved his hand and a large silver bowl appeared on his desk. "Would you like a lemon drop?" he asked conversationally, a few pieces of yellow candy suddenly appearing in his hand. Since this was the closest he had come to sounding like the headmaster she knew, Tonks grinned.

"Of course, Professor."

She took the candy and sucked on it carefully, deciding she didn't care much for the way it burnt the top of her mouth.

"If my suspicions are correct," Dumbledore said around the two sour beasts he had popped into his own mouth, "you are not quite where you're supposed to be. If that is the case, it is best that we not dwell on your memories too much. I may see fit to…well, no bother." He shook his head. It was not like Dumbledore to act so guarded, and Tonks gave him a confused look. He continued, "Given the current cultural climate as it stands, I must proceed with the utmost caution."

Tonks had begun to chew on her candy, deciding she did not like the way it stuck to her teeth. "I'm not sure I follow, Professor," she said.

"I do not ask much of you, but someone I do not know merely appearing in my castle must provide me with some proof of their identity."

Tonks blinked in rapid succession, not quite sure what to say. "Someone you don't know?! But professor…"

"Please." He held up his hand. "Do not tell me anything else." He sounded harsh. "I have had many mishaps with students before, but nothing this… extreme. It is a matter that must be handled carefully. Do not tell me your name. Do not tell me what year you were born. Instead, I simply ask for three things."

 _What year I was born?_

"Okay, Professor," Tonks said.

"There is a simple way of extracting memories from one's own brain. Will you do the motion with me?" Dumbledore picked up his wand as if to demonstrate. Tonks followed suit.

It was a flick of the wrist against one's forehead that was not unlike the turn necessary to perform an unlocking charm, and after several tries, Dumbledore seemed satisfied with Tonks's ability.

"Okay," he said simply. "The first thing I ask you to remember is the very first time you saw Hogwarts. Remember to do the motion as I showed you."

Tonks remembered. The boats. The castle. The lights. The stars. The tense feeling in her stomach.

A small strand, like a piece of gray hair, had attached itself to her wand.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "Put it in this bowl."

Tonks put her wand over the silver bowl he'd conjured, surprised by the way the strand simply fell in.

"Now remember when the sorting hat was put onto your head – after your name."

Tonks nodded and did the same as before.

"Finally, remember your first Transfiguration lesson."

That was an easy one, Tonks thought. McGonagall, catwoman that she was.

"There!" Dumbledore was truly smiling now. "I shall investigate these later, but I have no doubt of their authenticity."

"How can you be so sure, Professor?" Tonks asked, once again without thinking. This time the Headmaster did meet her eyes, though he looked more curious than not. "You seemed pretty suspicious of me before," she went on, feeling nervous.

"Ah!" The old man clapped his hands together and grinned. "I was merely exercising the appropriate amount of caution needed in such a situation. I feel now it is prudent to tell you that it is September of 1975 and the students shall be arriving in two days time."

' _75… 12 years ago…_

If he noticed the way she gaped at him, Dumbledore didn't seem to mind. "We will prepare you – we will give you the current Hufflepuff robes; that will be a good house for you, anyway, as they will be friendly but not too demanding of your personal details. We will give some more plain clothes to wear, as you need not stand out too much. And I will personally perform glamour charms to make you look less –" Here he motioned to her hair. "…Conspicious."

"No need, Professor," Tonks said, "if you want me to plain Jane it, so be it." Tonks closed her eyes, and, with a sigh, thought of her boring old face. The boring, long brown hair. The thick, dark eyebrows. The nose that was wider and larger than she preferred to wear. When she opened her eyes – now just brown, without the flecks of gold she liked to put in – her headmaster didn't look happy.

"You're a Metamorphagus," Dumbledore said flatly. "That was something I needn't to know."

"But you would've found out anyway when your stupid glamour charms didn't work," Tonks said pointedly, feeling a flush of anger at her old Headmaster. She quickly shut her mouth, realizing she had called the magic of the most brilliant wizard of all time "stupid."

He smiled. "Yes, I suppose you're right. But you must keep that detail to yourself. Along with the fact that you're from the future."

"You gathered that just from talking to me?" Tonks asked. "Is it… Are you putting me on? How the hell did I wind up _here_? How are you acting so calmly – I've got friends and family, you know. They'll notice if I'm missing. And this is just… I know wizards can't travel back and forth like this. I must've done something wickedly dumb to wind up here. And you're just acting like this is a normal, everyday thing."

"This is _not_ a normal, everyday thing. That is why I must insist that you do everything in your ability to keep yourself invisible. Keep quiet during lectures. Keep quiet during meals. Act as normally as possible without causing anything of a stir. I gathered you were from the future based solely on the fact that I did not remember you from anything in my past, and your clothes, while somewhat fashionable in this time, still seemed a bit removed from what I usually see my students wearing.

"So yes, either you were from the future, or there was a less savoury alternative. I hoped it was the former, and I daresay I hope you don't prove me wrong.

"As far as your friends and family, I will research relentlessly to make sure that when you arrive back, no one will have noticed a thing. But the show you've put on in here today… This attitude. It simply cannot go on. If you want your friends and family to be exactly where you left them, I reiterate this piece of advice: _Stay quiet_. Also, have a gummy worm." The professor held out a dish to the shell-shocked teenager. "I find the red ones to be delicious."

Tonks, not in the mood for sweets anymore, but not wanting to feel rude, took a red worm and began chewing on the rubbery thing obediently.

"Good. Now what year did you say you're in?"

"Fourth, sir."

"Good," he repeated. "You seem bright, so I'm sure you'll keep up in your studies, even if your curriculum is somewhat different. I just simply ask you don't speak much in class; no one in Hufflepuff should press you. If there are any problems with the Slytherin students, let a professor handle it."

Tonks's eyelids suddenly began to feel heavy.

"And I ask you one last thing, before you leave here today."

Tonks yawned. "Yes, Professor?"

"Do not attempt to recreate how you got here. It was obviously a fluke, so I don't hope you would be foolish enough to hope it would work in reverse."

Tonks thought she mumbled an agreement, but she couldn't remember. Dumbledore continued to speak, but everything grew hazy.

When Tonks opened her eyes, she was on a bed. It was most certainly in the Hufflepuff girls' dormitory, although the bunk beds seemed different than what she was used to. There was a note on the pillow next to her, which was a stupid place to put a note, she thought, as she was likely to drool all over it.

 _Dear Miss Brunhilda Bathswitch,_

 _It is my pleasure to invite you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is wonderful to have a student from the Salem Institute join us, and I am happy to hear your father finally returned to London, as I have missed sharing a pint with him._

 _I know you are quite shy and modest, but do not feel afraid to make friends while you are here. If you see someone who reminds you of home, it may be best to stay clear of them, because we know how messy one's memories can get._

 _I have had your luggage delivered and it should be at the end of your bed. I have supplied you with all the needed things for your fourth year. Keep your chin up (and the same size!) and I am sure we will have a wonderful school year._

 _I would hate to have to expel you._

 _Sincerely,  
A. Dumbledore _

_P.S. This note will soon disintegrate, so remember all it says._


	2. Chapter 2

I am still alive. My muse is actually quite powerful; it's the time to embrace her that I seem to lack. Despite Hermione's woes, I dream of a time turner sometimes. Don't you?

I have planned A LOT of things for this story out, and there are reasons ( _reasons_!) for both Tonks's existence in this time and Dumbledore's actions, I promise.

 **Chapter Two – A Way to Get a Little Wet**

"I still can't believe you shagged her," James said, his voice squeaking in the way it hadn't done since the end of Third Year. Somehow, the entire Gryffindor table seemed to hear him over the roar of the great feast, with one Lily Evans in particular shooting him a sour look before going back to talking to her friends. James frowned.

"Isn't this just great?" he spat out. "Padfoot shags a bloody muggle and _I_ get judged for it. Moony becomes a goddamned Prefect and I get bloody a lecture on making things easy for him. I swear, for being my mates, you both are making Evans give me the worst kind of attention!"

Sirius just barked a laugh and Remus smirked as he served himself some more potatoes. "I wasn't aware that there _was_ a bad kind of attention from Lily as far as you are concerned," he said before sighing down at the badge on his robes. "However, I do agree with you that this is . . ."

"Insane?!" James supplied when his now-Prefect friend seemed unable to think of anything to say.

"I'm happy Remus got it," Peter chimed in. "Because otherwise it would have been me."

Even James, who had been in an uncharacteristically foul mood, had to smile at that. "That definitely would've been worse, Wormtail."

"No it wouldn't've," Sirius insisted, speaking with a mouthful of food, as if he weren't raised with absurdly strict manners and/or any sense of decorum. "Wormtail doesn't know where I get my Firewhiskey."

Remus's face paled. "Oh, Merlin, am I supposed to keep you sober?"

Sirius grinned cheekily and waved a chicken leg in front of his friend's face. "Yep. _And_ you have to keep me from being a twat in general, so overall I'd say your life is about to become unbearable." Remus dropped his head onto the table.

He muffled something into his elbow that sounded suspiciously like, "Why did he do this to me?"

James sniggered into hand. "Honestly, you're going to kill him, Pads. Don't worry, Remus; we really _are_ happy for you, for the most part." Here James shot another look at Lily, but she really didn't seem to paying him any more mind. "That stuff Evans said to me on the train, about it being a big honor and all, she was right."

"Weren't your Mum and Dad proud when they found out?" Peter added kindly, not seeming to notice he had icing from the cake on his nose.

Remus sat up. "I don't know. It's complicated with them, sometimes," was all he said, and his friends did not push. Despite the fact that the fifth year Gryffindor boys seemed to know absolutely everything about each other (even the disgusting bits, really), Remus still seemed persistently evasive on some matters. He sighed again. "I just wish I didn't have all this pressure. The OWLs, the Prefect meetings, you lot being the filthy animals that you are –"

James and Sirius both grinned broadly at this. Over the summer, they had both managed to hold their forms longer than ever before. Even Peter nearly had the whole thing down, though getting rid of his tail seemed to trip him up sometimes.

"-And now Sirius has discovered sex. It's all going to get worse from here on out."

"Ohhhhh," Sirius waggled his eyebrows, "it's going to get very much worse, Moony, I promise you that."

"You lot weren't even there!" James pulled at his already difficult hair. His family had invited Sirius with them to Paris, and that was apparently where the whole ordeal had gone down. "Even without understanding a bloody word they were saying, I _still_ felt like I needed to bathe after listening to them talk."

Sirius seemed to take this as a compliment and just smiled once more before pulling a piece of parchment and quill from his satchel.

"Homework already?" Remus asked, knowing that that was simply not the case at all, and that true to his gut, his life was about to become all the more complicated. Sirius ignored him and merely began writing in familiar aristocratic handwriting. Remus couldn't see what his friend was doing, but he knew he really didn't want to.

James didn't seem to know what his best friend was writing either, but he sent Remus a look that seemed both apologetic and amused. "Sorry, mate," he offered. "If it's any consolation, the prank that's about to happen is quite mundane. Not up to our usual standards at all."

Remus sighed – _again_ – and all he could muster was, "No one's going to get hurt, are they?"

"Of course not!" James said, perhaps a bit too quickly. He furrowed his brow. "Well, not too badly, if they do."

Peter was the one to peek, stretching over the table to the handsome boy's parchment across from him. "It's a list of names," he said.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Sirius!" James cried, ripping the paper from his friend's hands. He scanned it quickly. Sirius tilted back in his seat and practically preened. Remus felt the urge to give him a good shove.

"Whaddya think, Mister Prongs?" Sirius asked after a moment.

James huffed and picked up the quill and began scratching things out. "You know she's never even going to speak to you, and you forgot Mildred from Ravenclaw."

"Oh, right," Sirius said thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin, which sported his extremely pathetic attempt at a beard.

"I don't get it," Peter said, looking back and forth between James and Sirius.

"Peter," said Remus, who had already gauged the situation at hand, and who was really fighting his sigh this time, "I do believe that Padfoot is devising a list of conquests."

"Conquests?" Peter asked before he seemed to realize. "Ohhhh." He was blushing furiously.

"Seriously?" Lily said, turning in her seat and frowning at the boys. "I do hope you have the sense not to go after any of the girls in Gryffindor. Or any of the girls younger than you." She pointed her finger at Sirius, but her eyes were glued to James.

Remus anticipated Sirius's pun-ny response, and made to warn his fellow Prefect, but James cut him off. "I always knew you were obsessed with us, Evans. Why don't you just admit it?"

The poor girl's face seemed as red as her hair. "You know what? Never you mind. It's none of my business if girls are stupid enough to fall for whatever shite Sirius feeds them –"James exhaled then, as this was perhaps the first time he had heard Lily curse "- but I am not going to let you drag Remus into this depravity."

In all honesty, Remus wasn't offended by the list – as far as he was concerned, most of the girls would probably be happy to fool around with Sirius, as he was easily very charming and good-looking and had kissed and told often enough that Remus could guess that it would be fun for all parties involved. But these thoughts weren't very chivalrous, so he kept them to himself. Unlike James, he did not fancy being on the end of Lily's wrath.

And James did so seem to fancy it.

"Let Padfoot have his fun, Evans! It's not like _I'm_ the one making a list." Here he batted his eyelashes. "You know you're the only one for me!"

Lily growled. "Shut it, Potter." She stood to gather her things. "Just leave the new girl out of it," was the last thing she said before storming off.

"New girl?" Peter mused.

"She's going to miss all the fun!" James practically wailed.

"Speaking of fun," Sirius said as he gathered the parchment and rolled it all up. He said nothing else, and Remus really thought this was for the best because he could already guess that whatever was about to happen would ruin everything on the table before them.

It was the small drip of water that he felt on the top of his head that really made him worry. The kind of drip so innocuous that you could almost believe it hadn't really happened after all. As he looked around, he saw that several of the students seemed to inspecting their surroundings, as well.

McGonagall had jumped to her feet, as if she was all ready to march over and give the Marauders – as they had started to call themselves, which was quite obnoxious when you thought about it, but Remus figured that if anyone could get away with being obnoxious, it was James and Sirius, surely – and Sirius merely smiled at her. "Minnie's at the very bottom of my list, you know," he said with a laugh.

"If you shag her, I will give you every galleon in my vault," James said, his former mood now fully replaced with his typical humor.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, my _dear_ friend."

"If you manage to pull it off, Sirius, the story alone will be worth the gold."

"Be sure you say that after I tell you about pulling off ol' Minnie's knickers."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Remus said. "You two do know that I am supposed to take house points away for bad behavior, yes?"

James seemed to contemplate this. "If Minnie shags Sirius, I'd rather say she's the one who deserves the trouble. Wouldn't you agree, Mister Padfoot?"

"Too right, Mister Prongs. I am but a mere innocent school child, and the cat would've been the one seducing _me_."

"Can we stop talking about this?" Peter asked, looking ill. "I want to be able to get rid of the mental pictures."

James laughed, but Sirius was the one who noticed Peter's eyes glued to the Hufflepuff table. "Is that her?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Would have to be," Peter said. "I know everyone." And it was true. Peter had a knack for memorizing detail.

That seemed rather handy, Remus thought, as this girl did not seem particularly detailed. She was sitting alone, staring at her plate and sighing. She looked as normal and non-interesting as one person could get. Neither ugly nor pretty – not Sirius's type at all, as he always went for the beautiful ones, or the cutesy ones, or the ones who were so weird that they seemed striking. She seemed the kind of unassuming person Remus thought himself to be, if he hadn't been so (mis)fortunate as to get sorted with two absolutely mad attention-grabbing wizards.

"She seems boring," Sirius declared, proving Remus truly did know his friend. "And a Hufflepuff at that! James put her at the bottom of the list, underneath Minnie."

"You put the list away already, you dolt," James said.

"Oh, right."

And then there was thunder. And then came the rain.

The students began to shriek and laugh in equal turns, some conjuring various items to keep their hair dry. Remus braved a glance at McGonagall, who was fuming, but Professor Dumbledore seemed amused from underneath his umbrella.

"What a lovely way for our students to practice Transfiguration, wouldn't you agree, Minerva?" he said, his voice somehow carrying through storm. The headmaster sent a wink Remus's way, and suddenly he didn't feel quite so terrified of the Prefect badge on his chest.

James and Sirius were too busy dancing around in the rain like idiots, cloaks soaked to the bone and now wearing heavily on them to notice, but Peter nudged Remus.

"Look at the girl," he said, and Remus had to admit, unlike most at her table, who seemed a bit nervous, the new girl was staring up at the enchanted ceiling as if the rain was the best thing that had happened to her at Hogwarts so far.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three – A Way to a Professor's Good Graces**

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks, and Tonks was going absolutely insane.

She had tried to talk to Professor Dumbledore several times, but he seemed to be avoiding her. For lack of other options, she sat outside of his office for what seemed like ages before Professor McGonagall approached her.

Tonks had barely remembered that _this_ Professor McGonagall did not know her, and she had been coming up with excuses to get out of trouble for loitering before the witch looked down at her kindly – was it even possible for the old crow to do that?! – and ask her how she was adjusting.

"Er, well," Tonks managed to get out. "It's all right I suppose. The girls in Hufflepuff are very nice."

And that was true. When she had introduced herself, they had been almost tickled pink. They said that now they had six girls in their year, more than any other house! They had then asked her the more perfunctory questions, the ones Dumbledore had given her answers to in the letter. She felt compelled to embellish, but she remembered Dumbledore's warnings of restraint.

So, instead of her father being the _greatest_ dragon tamer of all time, he was just sort of all right.

That had properly impressed them, but once she kept in her bed during her free time, they left her alone.

The girls back home would've _never_ left Tonks alone. They would've pestered her, or told her that being so quiet and sullen was out of her character.

But these girls did nothing of the sort.

Tonks was left alone, with her thoughts.

Twelve years was such a strange time, wasn't it? If she squinted, everything seemed the same. All the professors pretty much looked the same. Professor Snape was a student, she had noticed, and a rather, surly, ugly one at that, and she felt pleased that he did not seem to have many friends, other than a Gryffindor girl who seemed intent on becoming Tonks's friend for some unfathomable reason.

Twelve years was such a strange time to be sent back, wasn't it?

Tonks's thoughts often drifted to her own father. To her mother. To herself. She was _alive,_ somewhere, wasn't she? Tonks had never thought of herself as a particularly self-involved person, but she couldn't help but feel like this bit of magic was the cruelest prank imaginable, and someone _must_ have done it to her on purpose. She was bored out of her mind, and she couldn't help but wonder what she could do in this time. Why couldn't she have been sent back to, well, the middle ages, or something dashing like that?! Adventure! Fun! Instead, Professor McGonagall was still a cat and fourth year still felt like fourth year, except there was no more playing Quidditch, no more friendly snogs with Charlie Weasley. Nothing.

Tonks was so busy feeling sorry for herself, that she hadn't even been able to research properly.

She had told herself that that's what she should do, of course. Research. Figure out a way home. But the library was completely lacking in books on time travel, and the one time the Gryffindor girl had asked her if she needed help, she tried to ask her what she thought of apparating inside Hogwarts.

"Oh, can you apparate inside of Salem?" the red-haired girl – named Lilith, or something like that – had asked. "You can't do that here, at Hogwarts, I'm sorry to say."

"Yes, but. . . but what if someone tried?" Tonks had pressed.

"If you tried, you would fail," the girl said. "You should read this." She then pulled a thick book from her bag and handed Tonks _Hogwarts, a History_ , and Merlin, twelve years ago, they even had the same boring books! But then the girl said something interesting. "It doesn't really get into why the anti-apparation spells were put into place, but I would imagine it's for protection."

"Protection?" Tonks asked, surprised.

"Yes. To keep Hogwarts for those who are meant to be here." The girl smiled. "It's what I love most about this place." Then the girl left, saying if she needed anything else to just ask, and Tonks was left on her own, realizing deep in her gut that perhaps the reason she felt so alone was that she wasn't supposed to be here at all.

If Tonks was slightly less self-involved, she might have noticed who the girl was sooner – who everybody _was_ sooner – but instead she was just pouting in front of Dumbledore's office.

"I don't believe that the headmaster is in," Professor McGonagall said softly. "Why don't you come with me?"

Tonks was surprised when her feet seemed to guide her behind her least favourite professor, whose office looked virtually the same as it had every time Tonks had been called in there to get detention.

"Have a seat, Miss Bathswitch," Professor McGonagall said, and it took Tonks a minute to realize that the teacher was talking to her.

"Okay," she said dumbly.

Professor McGonagall sat across from her and seemed to be inspecting her. Yes, this seemed much more familiar.

"Miss Bathswitch, in the interest of full disclosure, Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your . . . situation."

"He has?!" That really took Tonks for a ride. Old Dumbledore had seemed so intent on keeping everything on the down low that she really didn't take him for the disclosing type. Couldn't this mess up the space-time continuum or whatever those muggle shows went on about on her Gran's telly?

McGonagall seemed amused, like the way she looked when Tonks's pranks were really funny, but she was trying hard not to show it.

'To be blunt with you, Miss Bathswitch –" and Merlin was that name stupid, Tonks thought, and she was practically the _expert_ on stupid names "- I do not entirely agree with the headmaster's methods."

Tonks couldn't help but gape. "Are you allowed to do that?" she blurted out.

And then McGonagall _laughed_!

"I've been known to, from time to time," she said, growing serious. "The Headmaster is amused by the situation, but also gravely worried. Are you aware of what's going on in the wizarding world during this time?"

And then Tonks sobered. 1975. . . _Harry Potter_. . . Of course! But that meant that You-Know-Who was still out there, somewhere, plotting. The thought made her shiver.

Tonks had the good sense to look down. "Bad things."

"Yes, Miss Bathswitch. Bad things. I consider myself an observant person, however, so the fact that you are not running around and seemingly trying to save the world, as it were, brings me great comfort."

Tonks hadn't realized. . . The bad things . . . If she was from the future . . . Yes, if things were still bad, she _would_ be worried sick, wouldn't she? She wouldn't be a moody fourteen-year-old, locked away in her dorm.

"Yes, Professor. I didn't even think of the bad things until you mentioned it. But," she added with a mischievous grin, "you always did accuse me of not thinking things through."

The Professor did not smile. "You do realize, Miss Bathswitch, that the bad things that may or may not come to pass may depend on your existence in this time." McGonagall, then stood from her chair and walked to the front of her desk and sat on the edge, so close to Tonks that their knees were almost touching. "While I am not well-versed in time theory, I _am_ worried about the Headmaster's approach, in that he seems to believe that time is stagnant – meaning that, whatever will happen will. He believes that your existence here is preordained, as it were, and that you ended up here simply because you were meant to. He is not paying much attention to your case because he is more concerned with the 'bad things,' as you put it, and simply believes that your situation will right itself."

Tonks furrowed her brow. "I am sorry, Professor, but I do believe I am a bit lost. You're saying that Professor Dumbledore is ignoring me because I just don't matter?"

But Professor McGonagall did not elaborate, merely shook her head. "Let's just say that I _do_ consider myself an expert on all things Transfiguration. Did you know that I studied the art for years before I began to teach here? I interviewed countless animagi, and even travelled to Bolivia to talk to a real Metamorphmagus?"

Here Tonks perked up because this was the Ol' McGonagall she knew, always harping on her about her abilities. "I suppose Professor Dumbledore told you about that, as well, eh?"

"Yes, he did, because he thought it might interest me in your case. He does not seem to grasp. . . Well, all I have is my conjecture. But I suspect I might be the foremost expert on shapeshifting wizards out there." Here McGonagall seemed to blush. Merlin, Tonks was learning all sorts of things about her Professor these days, wasn't she?! She was almost tempted to go back to her own time solely to tease her Professor about the revelations. "I suppose you could call it envy. But beyond their ability to transform, wizards like you have shown tremendous ability in Transfiguration, and in _changing_ things. I tried to explain this to Albus, how a Metamorphmagus like yourself invented the Polyjuice potion, how a Metamorphmagus like yourself created the Homorphus Charm. But he didn't seem to really understand."

Tonks blinked. Polyjuice, that she knew. The Charm, she did not, and she told herself to make a mental note of it, but she had already forgot the name. "I think that might make two of us, Professor," she said, and then McGonagall patted her on the knee and just smiled.

"Don't worry about it. Just be careful, if you would, as a favor to me. Albus's advice is sound. Keep your head down until we can send you home." McGonagall then stood and went back around her desk.

 _What was the point of all this?_ Tonk wondered. Professor McGonagall seemed to be trying to tell her something, but all she got out of it was that Professor Dumbledore _wasn't even trying_ to send her home.

She thought of her mum.

" _Don't you look cute?" she had said before snapping the picture of Tonks on her first day of Hogwarts._

" _Mum, stop, you're embarrassing me!" Tonks wailed, hiding her face behind her hands. "Dad, can't you make her stop?"_

" _Sorry," she heard her father's easy voice. "Can't stop your mother from being who she is."_

 _I want to go home_ , and she was blinking back the tears before she even realized they were forming.

She had managed to hide them before the Professor looked back at her.

"Back to my previous question, Miss Bathswitch, how are you adjusting to your new year?" she asked pleasantly enough.

"Well," Tonks said, grateful that they had moved onto some kind of conversation that made sense. "It's all right, I suppose. I find the classes kind of boring. I don't mind not speaking up, because I don't really care about that sort of thing, but. . ." And here, for some reason, Tonks felt like she could tell her Professor how she really felt. "I don't like feeling invisible. I'm not really used to it. Being normal. . . I have always wanted people to think I was something unique."

"You don't think yourself unique, Miss Bathswitch?" Professor McGonagall seemed to be reading her mind, and Tonks didn't like that very much at all.

"I didn't say that, Professor," she snapped, "I just like other people to know it, too. And I miss being funny. I miss making people laugh."

Tonks then grinned as she thought of the few amusing things she had seen since she had been here in this time. "Although the pranks in this time. . . Putting the slime on the stairs? That was bloody hilarious."

Tonks shut her mouth as she realized the slip, but Professor McGonagall didn't even try to take house points away for cursing. Instead, she merely pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Yes, those are my fifth year Gryffindor boys, I am afraid," she said wearily, although Tonks, now deciding to practice the art of being observant herself, noted that the Professor said 'my.' "They think they are funny."

"Don't _you_ think they are funny, Professor?"

"I don't mind the pranks," the Professor said easily, "but sometimes I fear they do not know the difference between laughing _with_ people or _at_ people, and that is a very valuable lesson to learn." Here she frowned. "That is another tense subject between Albus and me."

Tonks found that she rather liked Professor McGonagall when she was friendly and not always harping on her for her wasted potential. When Professor McGonagall offered tea, Tonks nodded enthusiastically.

They chatted a bit more about her lessons – Tonks tried not to tell too much of the future, but she let things slip sometimes, like how she thought Professor Slughorn, while more amiable, didn't seem near as knowledgeable as her old Professor, or how the Nimbus brooms in this time totally sucked.

But Professor McGonagall did not berate her.

It was starting to be downright eerie.

"I did a really funny prank in your class once, Professor," she said, feeling rather brave, but also realizing, a bit pathetically, that Professor McGonagall was quickly becoming her only true friend in this time.

"Oh?" the Professor asked.

"Yeah. Every time you said the words, 'proper wand movement,' chocolate frogs would appear everywhere!"

McGonagall merely inspected her. "How did you manage that?"

"Well, spells are connected to words, right? It's a psychological thing?" And if Tonks didn't know better, she would have thought that her Professor looked impressed. "Well, I put a whole store of frogs in my trunk that I bought from my last Hogsmeade trip, and. . . " Here Tonks paused. "You know what, I don't think I am going to tell you any more than that."

McGonagall nodded, though her eyes were twinkling even worse than Dumbledore's. "Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would you?"

"Absolutely not!" Tonks said, grinning, and feeling happy that at least someone here knew she was quite the witch in her day.

There was a lull in the conversation as the witches finished their tea, and then Tonks said she should go on her way. McGonagall showed her to the door.

"I must admit, Miss Bathswitch, that I am quite disappointed you were not sorted into my house," McGonagall said and Tonks nearly fell over. She had never heard those words from her Professor in a positive context – in fact, the one time she had said it, it had been in a threatening way, as if she thought Professor Sprout was going too soft on her.

"Well, the sorting hat gave me the go around," Tonks admitted. "It took ages, it felt like. But in the end, I am happy to be a Hufflepuff. I think loyalty is the most important trait someone can have." She practically puffed out her chest. "Once I decide someone's worth it, they are absolutely stuck with me, for better or worse."

And Tonks realized that, whenever she got back, she would never be mean to the Transfiguration professor again.

McGonagall nodded. "Good girl. Though given your vivacious nature, it's a good thing you're not in Gryffindor, meeting my boys," McGonagall said of the fifth years again. "I'd hate to see what James Potter and Sirius Black could get you into."

And it was that moment, after two very dull weeks in the past, that Tonks became substantially less self-absorbed, and realized with horror exactly what being in this time period truly meant.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four – A Way to Get People Mad at You**

"Five down!" Sirius proclaimed upon entering the Gryffindor common room. Remus looked up from the Potions essay he had been working on in front of the fire and thoughtfully tickled his chin with his quill feather.

"I don't think Gladys counts," he said at last. "You didn't shag her; just felt her up in the cupboard."

Sirius groaned and flopped dramatically onto the sofa. "Moony, why are you so hung up on technicalities? I would've shagged the daylights out of her if kissing her wasn't so bloody disgusting."

"What made kissing her so bad?" Remus wondered, and then he felt stupid, because he knew his experience in that area compared to Sirius's was downright pitiful.

"It wasn't that it was so _bad_ ," Sirius admitted. "It just felt all wrong." He seemed to mull it over. "All teeth."

"How do teeth even factor in?"

And then Sirius really did look at him patronizingly. "My virginal little wolf," he said, and Remus successfully managed to keep his head from swiveling around to see who was listening. Whether it was for the virgin part or the wolf part was debatable.

"Don't give me that guff," Remus said tersely instead, standing and stretching his limbs. Sometimes he liked it when James and Peter were off at Quidditch, leaving him alone with Sirius, as they very rarely had adventures on their own, and other times it annoyed him immensely. Like now. "If you're going to offer details, don't be surprised when questions come up."

At least Sirius wasn't in a mood.

"Oh, come on, Moony," he said as Remus began to pack up. "You're going to leave me here all alone?" He sounded like a lost puppy. It was part funny and part pathetic.

"I'm going to the library to study. You are more than free to join me," Remus said.

And then, as if he cursed it by thinking about Sirius's moods, his friend's eyes clouded over. "You're going with Evans," he said rather emotionlessly.

"Yes," Remus said. "I'm allowed to study with her, you know."

"Whatever," Sirius said rather petulantly, crossing his arms and turning away from his friend. "Have fun snogging Evans in the Restricted Section."

"First of all, you know I will do no such thing," Remus said, feeling a bit tetchy himself, "and secondly, it wouldn't hurt you to revise. I know you can scrap by without doing much work, but it's not going to be that way forever, you know." Remus didn't know if that was really true; perhaps things would always be easy for Sirius, as was his nature. But a nasty, bitter part of him that he liked to quell wished that Sirius could keep in mind that life wasn't always going to end up in his favour. His charming friend seemed to forget that sometimes, even with Regulus no longer on speaking terms with him.

Sirius didn't dignify him with a response, so Remus just rolled his eyes. "I will see you later, Padfoot," he said as he made his way out of the portrait hole.

Lily's hair was the first thing he saw, as she had been bent over tying a shoelace, an adorably muggle trait that she refused to let go of. "Hello, Remus!" she said cheerfully. "We should have just enough time to go over Runes before we do our rounds."

 _Rounds_ , Remus almost moaned at the thought. He was getting more tired as the moon approached, and not to mention, despite Lily's rather pleasant company, she was far less entertaining than his other friends. Nothing ever exciting happened on rounds. Still, he managed a smile.

"All right, then, let's go," he said, and the pair made their way to the library. Remus noticed something amiss right away when Lily, instead of heading to their usual table, seemed to be hesitating near the shelves.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"Huh?" Lily seemed to shake herself from her thoughts. "Oh, no. I was just looking for Brunhilda."

"Brunhilda?" Remus asked, thinking that the name sounded more fitting for an old hag than a witch. "A student?" he guessed.

Lily nodded. "The new Hufflepuff girl." But then, before Remus could ask why Lily was looking for her, the girl grabbed onto his arm and stood on her toes, still barely reaching his height. "There she is!" she said.

And it was true. Tucked far away in the corner was the plain girl Remus hadn't seen since the feast, and while she had an array of books scattered around her, she seemed more intent on trying to balance her quill upon her nose.

"Why were you looking for her?" Remus asked, but Lily was already pulling him by the sleeve to the girl's table.

"Hello!" Lily said cheerfully. "Hogwarts still treating you well?"

The girl's eyes went wide, and her cheeks flushed bright pink. She quickly lowered her eyes. "Er, yeah. I mean, it's great. Thanks."

Lily didn't seem fazed by the new girl's reaction at all. "Have you had a chance to read that book I leant you yet?"

"Oh," the girl said rather quietly, her ears now turning pink. "I, well, no, you see. I've been busy."

Lily nodded in understanding, but Remus could see that there was something lurking behind his friend's actions. "Fourth year is a difficult year. Isn't it, Remus?"

Remus was surprised when the tables turned to him, and the girl looked up at him quickly, her eyes darting between him and Lily quickly.

"Yes," he managed to get out. "The professors can be difficult."

"That's true!" Lily exclaimed, and now Remus knew something was really wrong because Lily never showed exuberance in the library beyond finding out something incorrect in a text. "If you ever need any help with anything, Remus and I would be more than willing."

"That's. . . that's very nice of you, Lily," the girl said quietly again, eyes back to the parchment in front of her. "But, I just. . . I think I will go it alone. Thanks."

"Okay," Lily said, still smiling. "How about if we join you then?"

"Join me?" the girl squeaked, sounding surprisingly like Peter when they were about to do a rather stupid and dangerous prank. She looked like she wanted to object, but Lily was already pulling out a chair.

Remus couldn't keep his eyes off of Lily. What on earth was she thinking? It seemed rather cruel, to force another student to be so uncomfortable.

"No!" the girl shouted quickly, standing from her chair with such force that it toppled over, and then she made like she was leaving the table, her poor cloak still attached to the chair, which had decided to come with her before she managed to shake it off. "I think I will. . . I will be going then. Goodbye!" she said hastily, and then she ran out of the library like it was cursed.

"What the hell was that about?" Remus asked. Lily instead went to the books and parchment the girl had left scattered about.

"That doesn't even look like Filch at all," Lily said simply, as if critiquing a student's artwork fell under Prefect jurisdiction.

"You scared the living daylights out of her!" Remus said. "What did you do to her?!"

"Absolutely nothing," Lily said easily, and then she grinned at her friend. "Isn't it obvious, Remus? She has a _secret_."

Remus blinked a few times before registering the strange behavior. He had flashbacks to his own youth, of the way he refused to meet James's and Sirius's eyes when he first got to school, his habit of leaving the room quickly when he thought they were getting too close to figuring him out.

"Yes," he said at last. "I suppose she does. But what business is it of yours?" Suddenly he felt both protective and intrigued by the new student – Brunhilda, is that was Lily had said her name was? "Sometimes secrets are worth keeping."

Lily gave him a pitying look then, a look he really seemed to hate, as he had long ago figured out that Lily _knew_ about him, though she never said so aloud. "It's not so much that she has a secret. It's moreso the, well . . . the _conspiracy_ of it."

Remus couldn't help himself – despite his better senses telling him to give the girl privacy, his mouth moved of its own accord. "Conspiracy?"

"Yes," Lily said, her eyes aglow. "Have you read _Hogwarts, a History_ , Remus?"

"Yes, back in First Year," Remus said. The book, while full of extremely interesting information, seemed to be written in the dullest way possible. He pulled a face.

"I thought you liked that book," Lily said, sounding a bit shocked before shaking her head. "Do you remember the part about the exchange student? From Durmstrang?"

"Yes. He came here almost a century ago."

"Precisely. And even though he was sixteen, he was still forced to undergo the sorting hat ceremony, right?"

". . . Right," Remus said hesitantly, already expecting where this was going.

"But Brunhilda did no such thing. Not to mention that I've seen her lurking around Dumbledore's office a few times." Lily's eyes seemed to glaze over. "Brunhilda Bathswitch, such a witch name if I've ever heard one. But there are no Bathswitches in Europe as far as I know. Do you think if I requested student records from Salem, they would send them to me?"

"Wait. . . you think she's using an alias? And you think Dumbledore knows about this?" Remus's brain seemed to be catching up with the exceptionally bright red-haired girl's thoughts. Her eyes looked pleased when she nodded at him.

"Then why does it matter?" Remus said without thinking. "If Dumbledore's in on it, then it's probably all for the best. He knows what he's doing."

Remus owed _everything_ to Professor Dumbledore. He trusted the man implicitly, and the fact that Lily found his possible interference with the new girl to be suspicious grated him. Lily glared.

"Because, _Remus_ ," she said, as if it were obvious. "I brought you along as a test. She did not react to you the way she did me, you see? She's been skittish around me for weeks now, and that means _I_ am involved somehow." Lily in that moment looked just as petulant as Sirius did sometimes, although Remus knew better than comment upon it. "If it involves me, then I have a right to know! I've watched her with other muggle-borns, with other red-heads, with other fifth years . . . Nothing." Lily sighed. "The only other people I've seen her avoid is your lot, and I don't blame her for that."

"Maybe she just fancies you," Remus offered, barely containing his grin.

Lily laughed. "Oh, Remus. . . you think I can't tell when a girl fancies me?"

Remus's eyes widened. He couldn't decide whether he should tell this to James or not – would he be pleased or jealous? So many possibilities. . .

Lily shook her head. "Let's just do the rounds now. I thought you of all people could help me figure her out. But you're not going to, are you?"

Remus thought it over for a moment. "No," he finally said. "Her secrets are hers to keep."

"Even if they involve me?" Lily said, using the tone she typically reserved for James. "You don't think I've a right to know?"

"If you really think it involves you, then ask the girl straight-forward, but don't go spying on her. As far as I can tell, she's not hurting anyone."

"Remus Lupin, you right bastard!" Lily shouted. "Patrol on your own tonight!" And then Lily left the library in a huff, and Remus couldn't help but think that Lily, despite her many wonderful attributes, was so terribly short-tempered it almost wasn't worth being honest with her. Then he remembered what patrolling alone meant – twice the work and double the boredom.

"Well, fuck me," he groaned, just as he saw the students gathering their things up for curfew. Oh, the pitfalls of responsibility.

He made it through about thirty minutes of patrolling before he gave in and went through the secret tunnel to Honeydukes. He made sure to leave the money behind as he took the candy with him back to the school, throwing Bertie Botts beans up in the air and trying – and failing – to catch them in his mouth as he went down the corridors. The only people out this late were either snogging or trying to get cake from the kitchen, and, in Remus's humble opinion, neither of those activities merited detention. But he had already accepted that he was hopeless at this. Maybe he should've humored Lily a little more; she would've kept him in line, at least.

He was too busy with his candy task and his thoughts to look where he was going, and he was quite surprised when he ran into something with a great thud. Or _someone_ given the distinctly feminine "Oomph" he heard upon impact.

He had merely fallen onto his ass, but the poor girl he had crashed into had practically skidded across the floor. "Merlin," he muttered, quickly going to her aid, ignoring the ache in his bones from moving so quickly. "You all right, then?" he asked, holding out a hand. She looked up at him, and it was the Hufflepuff girl from before.

She stared at his hand a long while – almost uncomfortably long, Remus thought – before taking it and righting herself. He felt the flutter of insecurity in his stomach, the one he always felt when people seemed to avoid him, but he tried to shake it off.

"I'm sorry about that," he began nervously. "I should be more careful."

"Eh," the girl shrugged as she went about dusting off her cloak. "I wouldn't worry about it; I have a tendency to cause destruction."

"Like in the library," he said, thinking of the chair. The girl met his eyes, and he was surprised to see she looked faintly amused.

"Yeah. Like that. It hasn't happened so much this year, so I was kind of hoping that maybe I could get through the term without an "incident," as it were." And now Remus knew the girl was in good spirits, as she was making air quotes and smiling in a jovial, friendly way.

If Remus had even a flicker of doubt about telling Lily to mind her own business, it was certainly put to rest now. The girl seemed truly harmless.

But then she frowned. "You're friends with James Potter and Sirius Black, aren't you?"

Remus found himself nodding. If he had to count on his fingers how many times he had been asked that question during his time at Hogwarts, he would need at least a dozen more hands.

"And Pettigrew, too?" the girl went on.

Merlin, she even knew Peter's name?! Is this what he had come to? The _other_ , other one?

"Yeah, we're all in Gryffindor."

The girl seemed to be scrutinizing him, and he felt perturbed by her thoughtful gaze.

"And you're mates," she said. It was not a question.

"They're my best friends," he said. When she just kept staring at him thoughtfully, he said, "Why, does their reputation precede them?"

And then the girl's ears went pink again. "I suppose you could say something like that," she finally muttered. "I'm surprised I haven't heard of you, though. Remus, isn't that what Lily said?"

Remus was surprised that the girl could remember anything from Lily's library assault, but he nodded. "Remus Lupin."

The girl nodded, and she still seemed to be eyeing him warily. But then she smiled. "Nice to, well, bump into you, I guess."

Remus chuckled. "Likewise."

The girl stood there in silence again, appraising him.

Remus, for lack of anything else to say, cleared his throat. "This is the part where I tell you to return to your dormitory. It's after curfew, you know."

The girl looked at him once more, and then broke into giggles. "Merlin, you're bad at this! I wish I had known Prefects like you back where I came from!"

It was Remus's turn to feel embarrassment. "I am perfectly capable of handling my duties, Miss Bathswitch," he said as forcefully as he could.

The girl leaned her head against a pillar and moaned. "What a terrible name," she cried. "Why am I cursed like this?"

Remus thought of Lily's theory, and then tried to be friendly. "What would you prefer to be called?"

The girl blinked. "Oh. Well, I dunno . . . I suppose I hadn't thought about it. Brunhilda Bathswitch is just. . . who I _am_ , I suppose."

The girl's words and sad tone seemed to confirm everything. Remus wanted to say something, but couldn't think of anything more. He reminded himself of his words to Lily – other people's secrets were their own business.

"Keep your friends away from me, would you, Lupin?" The girl broke him from his memory, smiling despite using his surname. "Their pranks are brilliant, but. . ."

"I understand. They are quite the handful."

"Nah, it's nothing like that." The girl waved her hand dismissively. And then she glowered. "I just fucking hate Sirius Black."

And then, before Remus could properly respond, she had turned and walked away from him. He stood there staring after her retreating form, wondering just how much of today his friends would be able to pry from him because once Sirius heard about this. . .

Well, she would move up the list, that was for sure.


	5. Chapter 5

I have planned this entire story out with flow charts and diagrams and wonderful stick figures! That means it exists somewhere in my mind, so I want to make it to the end. I won't bother you guys with author's notes anymore, but I want to warn you that things may get confusing for a little bit because I won't give you the entire side of each story right away; however, I promise you, I plan to tie things together eventually. **And once the story's finished, it will get a nice and good editing** , as I like to see the whole picture before tackling that beast.

That said, of course, let me know of anything that catches your eye or trips you up (some of those things may be there for a reason, though!). And most of all: enjoy. Because that's what we're here for, right?

 **Chapter Five – A Way to Start Halloween**

" _Dora, wake up." Her father's voice. Soft, but insistent. The pressure on her shoulder._

" _Nooooo," she grumbled, turning away from the man crouched next to her bed. "Let me rest."_

 _He chuckled. "There will be time for that later, darling. You don't want to miss it, do you?"_

 _She refused to even look at him. She was so small then. He picked her up – practically hoisted her over his shoulder._

 _They stepped out into the garden._

 _There were… lights. Fireworks. Shooting stars. A Patronus or two, maybe? Cheers, it sounded like, from at least the next few villages over._

 _Her mother stood, arms enveloping herself, embracing herself, smiling to the sky. She looked very. . . happy._

"Brunhilda!" a voice jolted Tonks from her sleep and she sat up quickly.

"Whassit…?! _Christ_ , Meredith, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" she grumbled. Reality had hit her like a ton of bricks in the form of a curvy but pretty blonde Hufflepuff with approximately twenty-seven freckles sprawled across her nose.

She looked like Cynthia, kind of. Tonks idly wondered if her best friend was doing all right, but as the days slipped away (had it really only been a couple of months?) her memories seemed to grow foggier. Cynthia only had eleven freckles, Tonks reminded herself, all mostly on her right cheek.

"You will never guess who I just talked to!" Meredith grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

Tonks cursed her luck that she was the only Hufflepuff who had decided not to attend the Quidditch game (it was downright annoying not being able to play), for that meant she was doomed to hear about this exciting new development.

"Oh, Merlin, not you, too," she moaned before falling back onto her bed. She threw her duvet over her face, and when she spoke, it came out muffled. "He'll talk to pretty much anyone, you know."

"I _know_ ," Meredith said, but Tonks could tell she hadn't really thought about that too much. "Hogsmeade trip is soon; rescheduled due to the rain. Will he ask me, you think?"

Tonks didn't know what to say to that, her mind instead assaulted with stories of the most villainous and slimiest and dangerous follower of You-Know-Who… The kind of bastard with no shame, who killed people in broad daylight even after being begged to stop…

"After we messed about in that empty classroom he hasn't been paying me much mind," Meredith said, almost as if speaking to herself. "But he said, 'How're you, love?' to me today, so I think that's a good sign."

Sirius Black was dangerous, Tonks knew. And he also seemed to be a massive flirt.

It was an incongruous picture that Tonks had drawn in her mind. The one between who she knew to be a bad person, just from what she had heard around but never paid much mind to, as it was practically a given that a _Black_ was a bad wizard, and the actual teenage boy she had been watching.

He was a _Gryffindor_.

 _He was best friends with James Potter._

Nobody had ever told her all that. Well, it's not like she had really asked. She hadn't thought about James Potter much at all, aside from the legends she heard about Harry being whisked away by Dumbledore and locked in a vault at Gringotts so that he could be protected from whatever baddies might still be out there looking for him. She had met a few people up and down who had sworn that they had met him, but her father said that was rubbish, and that _The Daily Prophet_ couldn't even track the boy down.

James and Lily Potter.

She had seen their picture just once, in that damned _Prophet_ celebrating the five year anniversary of You-Know-Who's defeat. That was during second year, and the only thing she remembered was being so enamored with Lily's hair – a rare burst of natural blood red, with no orange tint to it at all, which she had never really seen on anyone – that she had taken to wearing it for almost an entire week.

She'd not thought of them otherwise.

All these people… it was only twelve years, but Merlin, it was like she was surrounded by bloody ghosts.

Ghosts who had a tendency to shag every girl in the school.

"And why do you think he called you 'love'?" Tonks got back to the matter at hand as she walked across the dormitory to the mirror on the far wall, sighing at her boring reflection. Meredith's nose pointed up and to the left in profile; she could copy the other girl's appearance in an instant.

Except of course she _couldn't._

 _But what if you did?_ a nasty little voice in the back of her mind asked. _Dumbledore doesn't get to control you. He hasn't even spoken to you since you got here. Not much compassion for a little girl who could be scared out of her mind, for all the old man knows._

"It was a term of affection, Brunhilda!" Meredith declared before dramatically flopping onto her bed. A hopeless romantic, that one.

"He probably doesn't even remember your name," Tonks said flatly, turning to her roommate. Her tone didn't seem to faze the poor girl, though.

"He doesn't have to remember my name. He just has to remember _me._ " Here Meredith giggled and Tonks rolled her eyes.

"He is disgusting, isn't he? The way he and Potter go about as if they rule the bloody school."

Seriously, Tonks couldn't wrap her mind around it. They were _BEST FRIENDS._ And maybe it was McGonagall's words getting to her, but she thought the Transfiguration professor might've been right; they did seem to enjoy tormenting people just a little _too_ much.

Meredith just smiled. "They're not all that bad. James helped me once with Defense homework in the library. They're just immature," she stated with finality, with only the kind of faith-based common sense that would make Helga Hufflepuff proud. "They're boys. They will grow up."

"They're older than us," Tonks said quickly. " _And_ they don't know the number one rule of comedy."

"Comedy?" Meredith sat up, like she was expecting Tonks to put on a show then. Tonks would've, really, if she had been in a different time…

"Yes," Tonks grinned. "You _never_ laugh at your own jokes."

Tonks saw the flicker of confusion across Meredith's face, and she heard two of her other roommates' voices echoing through the common room – Mara and Winchester, those were their names. Tonks didn't know if the latter was a surname or not, but she didn't plan to ask too much. The less she got attached to these girls, the easier it would be in the long run, wouldn't it? Wouldn't it be awkward as hell when they got a letter twelve years from now: "Hello, my name is Tonks, and I am a teenager, but I also knew you when you were a teenager and I just thought I would check in. Make sure everything's in tip-top shape. Also, I hope you didn't die during the war."

Tonks cringed at that last thought. Yes, it was much better to avoid everybody here entirely. Especially when it came to things she hadn't realized until now she was woefully ignorant about. A lot of these people. . . Lily, the nosy girl that she was. . . James . . . Pettigrew. . . She had heard their names bandied about, but she still hadn't placed anyone else.

She didn't want to.

 _She wanted to go home._

"I have to go talk to Professor Dumbledore," she announced rather abruptly as the other girls walked in the room. Before they could ask, she elaborated: "I would like to know if he could set up a way for me to floo my father."

She managed only to bang her shin on the bedpost closest to the door as she left.

The corridor was surprisingly empty, though from the students she overheard, Gryffindor had won in a landslide. Wouldn't that just be great? She could already imagine the mania that the fifth year boys would cause. She would find herself partially amused because at least Potter and Black were _interesting_ in this time and place, removed from all other things, but also annoyed because they would be gloating from their table like they were the best blokes to ever do pranks.

Subtlety, that's what they lacked. _That_ was funny. Sarcasm. Irony. Satire. All the greats knew that there was more to humor than a well-timed pratfall.

For example, McGonagall couldn't very well expel Tonks for wearing a moustache to class, could she? No, she couldn't. She could send her to Madam Pomfrey, to ensure the facial hair was well-maintained, but she couldn't do a damn thing otherwise, even as the rest of the class couldn't stop laughing.

Comedy, that's what that was.

These boys were amateurs.

Tonks had been caught up in her reverie – in the memories of things that technically hadn't even happened yet, that she didn't realize the complete stillness in the corridor now.

One of the tapestries shivered as she walked past, and she stopped to stare at it in confusion. What was all that about?

Then she heard it.

She turned around suddenly.

No one.

It was the heavy sort of footstep that a boy had, she just knew it. Boys walked more on the front of their foot.

"A disillusionment charm?" she asked with a scoff. "How pathetic."

No response.

Tonks was _sure_ there was someone there.

"If you're going to sneak around the castle, you should do so properly, you know," she went on. "Where's the adventure in being invisible?"

She thought she heard a cough but was interrupted by the unmistakable voice of her headmaster.

"What's all this about being invisible, Miss Bathswitch?"

Tonks blushed at the older wizard, as if his comment was on both her words and her previous conversation with McGonagall.

"I'm not sure, Professor," she said. "Perhaps I am just going a bit mad."

"Ah," he said, sounding good-humored. "Well there's nothing wrong with going mad, though I do advise you put it off for a few years yet. Were you heading to my office?"

"Er, yes, Professor," Tonks said, knowing full well that _he knew_ she had been trying to speak to him for weeks now. "I wanted to talk with you about a few things. . . You know, like, maybe setting up a line of communication with my father?"

It wasn't the most graceful way of keeping her secret in the open hallway, and Dumbledore looked at her with a slight frown, but he did not seem to be terribly disgruntled. "Hmmm… yes, I suppose we should discuss that, shouldn't we?"

He nodded to himself, as if he had just made a decision, and then began the trek to his office with the implicit notion that Tonks was to follow.

As they turned the corner that led to Dumbledore's staircase, Tonks briefly thought about just what being headmaster entailed; for all she knew, Dumbledore had been very busy. Perhaps she had been too hasty to feel anger toward him for not helping her. There were, after all, _bad things_. Things she didn't understand. Things happening that people didn't even talk about where she was from.

After she and Dumbledore entered his office, the old man stood facing the doorway for a moment before nodding and closing it behind him.

Before Tonks could even ask, Dumbledore smiled at her. "Hiding in plain sight is a very valuable thing, Miss Bathswitch. I must admit I was bit disheartened to hear you did not entirely appreciate it."

Great. So the Professors had been blabbing to each other, after all.

"It's not that, Professor. . ." she began, but then she was cut off by a beautiful sound: a mournful song coming from an open cage distinctly to Tonks's left.

 _A phoenix._

"It's beautiful," Tonks breathed as she walked toward to the creature, who looked rather thin and sickly.

"You're familiar, then?" Dumbledore asked as Tonks felt his presence behind him. She nodded.

"They're very rare, aren't they?"

"Extremely. They're hard to contain, I think. I have known Fawkes a very long time, and he has shown me great loyalty. I treasure it, as I know he does not give it freely. However, he has been looking a bit peaked lately, which troubles me."

Tonks had to frown at that. Of course Professor Dumbledore would have a Phoenix… but wouldn't he also know what that entailed? Speaking of tails, the feathers on the creature seemed to reflect the candlelight in the Professor's office beautifully.

"Isn't that what Fawkes was born to do, though, Professor? Die?"

Dumbledore chortled. "How philosophical, Miss Bathswitch! Is that not what we are all born to do? Come to my desk."

Tonks was forced to mull over her Professor's rather cryptic – and depressing! – statement as she took the seat across from him once again.

The time only one portrait was occupied, a black-haired gentleman with a very stern face, a face which seemed to be scrutinizing Tonks all the more.

"I have been very impressed with your maturity regarding this situation, Miss Bathswitch," Professor Dumbledore began without preamble. "Many other witches and wizards in your situation might see fit to do something… reckless."

"What, like run away and find my family?" Tonks asked, realizing for the first time that that thought had always been in the back of her mind.

Dumbledore frowned thoughtfully and stroked at his beard. "If you were to do that, of course, I would never allow you back on the premises, nor would I allow you to be turned over to the Ministry. You would be forced to fend for yourself." He sighed. "It would be a very difficult life for a witch out of her time. A girl with no name, _no face_ . . ."

Tonks felt the anger before she could quash it, and she could tell by the Professor's lifted eyebrows that her hair must have gone to being an exact match for Lily Evans's.

"Your appearance is affected by mood. That must be very difficult to control. I am happy you have been able to do so," he said simply.

"Happy?" she blurted. "Professor, I am not happy! I want to go home! I don't want to cause you any trouble – I don't want to cause _anyone_ any trouble, but this is absolutely insane, and the fact that it's gone on so long. . . It'll be Christmas break soon, and then what? I will just sit in the dormitory all alone, missing my mother and father?"

"You could always play Exploding Snap instead."

Suddenly Tonks didn't like sarcasm as much anymore.

"I want to go home!" she repeated. "I miss my friends. I miss my life! I understand you've got more important priorities, but surely. . . I don't know, can't you, well, _multi-task_? Please, Professor!" Tonks was going to cry in front of Professor Dumbledore, but she found she didn't even care. "I've done everything you've asked of me. I don't know anybody here, so I can't. . ."

Professor Dumbledore looked kindly at the crying girl in front of him, but more in a pitying way than a truly empathetic one.

"Miss Bathswitch," he said softly, "I believe that we can never truly understand magic, and I say that as a headmaster at a school for such a thing. I _am_ grateful to you for following my advice. In fact, earlier this morning, I was having a wonderful chat with Professor Binns, and he seemed to not even recall that you were in his class."

"Binns wouldn't recognize me even with my pink hair," Tonks grumbled.

Professor Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth then, not even bothering to offer one to Tonks. "What I find interesting about Cuthbert is that is he has always used various coping mechanisms to deal with his issues. Issues I won't bore you with, dear girl, but the point is. . . I decided to show you Fawkes today for a reason. Can you guess it?"

The sudden shift in conversation startled Tonks and she rubbed her eyes and nose quickly, realizing that her nose had practically turned into a fountain in front of her headmaster.

"Er. . ." Tonks tried to think. "Trust?" she guessed. "You didn't let me see him before."

He smiled. "That's partly true, and also partly wrong. Some people will tell you there's either right or wrong, but I don't think very highly of those people. My main reason was to ask you what you thought of his imminent demise, a rather unexpected one, at that. When Fawkes returns, I always feel that he remembers me, but is that wishful thinking on my part? Can something change and still be completely the same?"

Tonks sighed. "Professor, I am not in Ravenclaw. I don't like this conversation. You've already told me that I am trapped here. And you're not going to let me explain any more about how I got here, are you?"

Dumbledore's face resumed its neutral stance. "No, I am afraid not."

"And you're not going to tell me about any progress you've made in trying to send me back or what you're thinking, or any of that, are you?" Tonks couldn't help it. Her voice was rising again. Her hair was still red, shimmering like the phoenix feathers, she imagined.

"No," he said again. "Some matters are unspeakable, I am afraid."

"Then, you know what?!" Tonks stood quickly and felt the blood rush to her forehead. "I APPARATED! I APPARATED right back to a time that's barely anything at all!" Once her words started, Tonks found herself with the same problem she always had – her mouth just wouldn't stop. "And I would check your bloody Sorting Hat because Sirius Black should've been a Slytherin if I've ever known one!"

Dumbledore really didn't look happy this time. "Calm down, Miss Bathswitch."

"He's really _not_ a Slytherin," the portrait spoke up for the first time, and Tonks realized he had been watching the back and forth between the two for the duration of their conversation. "Though I am surprised that was not the house you were sorted into."

"What do I care what you think?" Tonks spat, and she must've been mad because she couldn't recall ever yelling at a portrait before.

Professor Dumbledore raised a placating hand. "Quiet, Phineas. Brunhilda, I hereby remove one hundred points from Hufflepuff house."

The calm tone of her professor seemed to jar Tonks back to reality. She felt her hair fading.

"But… they'll be in last place, won't they?"

"What do you care, Miss Bathswitch?" Dumbledore was speaking to her as if she was stupid now. "They're not _your_ friends, as you've made clear. You seem to have very tenuous connections to this time, and whatever knowledge you do have, you seem intent on blackmailing me with."

Tonks blinked. "Blackmail?"

"You did not offer your opinion on Sirius Black out of the goodness of your heart, did you? Nor was it mere observation, I imagine," he said simply. "Now, I kindly ask that you leave my office. When I find out something that will help you, I will let you know." Dumbledore stood and began to lead Tonks to the door. "And for the record, I am very disappointed with the duplicitous nature you've displayed today."

 _Duplicitous_? Tonks felt like she had been punched in the gut. The only time she had been called that was by _very closed-minded wizards,_ her mother had promised her.

Dumbledore had told her he would never let her come back if she ran away, but would her own parents really disown her? Maybe they would be happy to have two kids for the price of one? Or maybe she would just destroy everything if she met her baby-self. She didn't know. Probably the only wizard in the whole world who _did_ know had just called her _duplicitous._

"I'm sorry, Professor," she muttered, staring at the plain black oxfords that now made up the entirety of her shoe collection. "I lost my temper. I shouldn't have. . ."

"Don't worry, too much, Miss Bathswitch," and this time the old man had gone back to sounding quite kind. "It is a big burden for a child to carry a secret such as yours. For my part, I will try to. . . speed up my efforts to send you home."

When Tonks met his eyes, the Professor was smiling. "It is Halloween tomorrow, after all. A wonderful day of celebration. I think you will find it very enjoyable from Professor Binns' classroom, where you will be helping him sort through his many years of research."

Detention?! Professor Dumbledore had just taken away a hundred points and was giving her the world's more boring detention?!

"That's. . .I mean, you don't think that's a bit extreme, Professor?" she asked, but he was already opening his door and practically shooing her away.

"Not at all. You just told me that you managed to break the very castle's magic itself. I do believe I am letting you off rather easy. Keep you temper in check, Miss Bathswitch, or I will have Madam Pomfrey prescribe you a calming drought."

And then the door was shut. She was alone in the corridor, again.

If she had been paying more attention, she would have noticed the tapestry this time; the one that had twitched before had now wrapped itself around her and began twirling her around in a very crude imitation of a ballroom dance.

 _Castle's magic. . ._

She remembered the day of the slime, the way Potter and Black had been acting shocked as first years after first years kept getting stuck on the steps and being moved all around the school, practically crying, and even Professor Flitwick himself had managed to get himself tangled up in it.

" _Whatever will we do?" Sirius had cried dramatically._

" _The school is trying to keep us here forever, what a terrible fate!" James had said._

Merlin, they'd been such preening bastards.

The tapestry dipped her quite suddenly and her long hair brushed the floor.

"So that's what they're doing," she mused aloud. "They're messing with all the school fixtures that have already been enchanted."

The tapestry didn't respond, but just gave her one big spin before untangling her from its grasp.

"It's pretty clever," she decided. "But it still lacks subtlety."

Pettigrew, the poor boy, couldn't stop from laughing, so he kept hiding his chubby red face behind Sirius, and Lupin. . .

He had been pretending to read a book, and when the time came for the boys to go to class, he had merely stepped over one of the small children without even looking at him.

Tonks chuckled. That was pretty funny. He was an all right sort. It was a shame she hadn't heard of him. That meant that he had either ended up on the dark route with Sirius – and here she remembered how quickly he had offered his hand when she practically barreled into him – or in the war he had . . .

She continued to stare at the tapestry as it gave her a bow. She bowed in turn.

The bow must've been Lupin's idea, she decided.

Suddenly, everything about today came back into perspective as she made her way back to her dorms. She would have to explain about the house points, and missing any of the many parties that were sure to happen during Halloween. She would have to sit alone in her bed and think of all the ways she had mucked up her conversation with Dumbledore.

She would have to think about the war, and how many really nice people she was getting forced to know who would end up completely dead.


End file.
